"We must tell the bees, you know," Holmes murmured, his head resting on Watson's good shoulder.
Watson smiled and gently kissed his head. "Tell them what, my dearest?"
"That you are staying with me now, permanently." He looked at Watson nervously. "You are staying with me, aren't you? You haven't changed your mind?"
"Of course not, Holmes." He chuckled softly. "You are not getting rid of me that easily. But why, precisely, would the bees care?"
"It's an ancient tradition to tell the bees of significant events in the life of their keeper! Births, deaths, marriages and so-forth… Did you know that according to one report from Lincolnshire—" He stopped and gave Watson a sheepish look. "I am rambling again, aren't I?"
Watson chuckled. "You are. But as I keep telling you, Holmes, I have always adored listening to your rambling."
Holmes blushed. "Anyhow," he continued, "I know it is not exactly a wedding, but… You, my dear Watson, are most significant to me. And even though sometimes I want to keep you all for myself, it's only right that my bees get to know you, too."
Watson wiped away a tear and smiled. "I cannot wait to meet them."